


Everybody Wants To Rule The World!

by Pseudonymous_Entity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Apprentice Harry, And their implications, Angry Harry, At least he's aware of it, Azkaban, Betrayal, Broken Friendships, But he isn't the worst thing ever, Changing alliances and loyalties, Constant questioning of Right and Wrong, Dark Lord but not Evil Harry!, Dark Lord in Training Harry, Duealing, Emotional Manipulation, Even though he gets used by Salazar an obscene amount, Everyone has their own goal, Focused Harry, Gen, Goals that are far from noble, Going to the Dark Side without even really noticing it, Harry didn't think any of this through, Harry is in way over his head, Harry seems to be the only one who really understands this, Harry sucks at resisting Salazar, Harry wishes for a companion, Hogwarts has a lot of secrets, Less then perfect Founders, Lonely Harry, Magical Affinities, Magical Oaths, Mistakes, Neither the light nor the dark is perfect, Not even Harry, Opening your mind to other perspectives, Other, Promises, Pureblood Games, Questionable Alliances, Questioning if the Dark Side is really the Dark Side at all, Salazar Slytherin is pretty much somewhere between a Horcrux spirit and a Jinn, Salazar isn't a good guy, Slow build toward Harry's descent, Slytherin grants his wish, Social Manipulation Games, Soul Slaves, Sworn Magical Contracts, TRUST NO ONE, The consequences can be pretty harsh, The founders of some explaining to do, Their own agenda, There's an attempted exorcism at one point, Training, Unhealthy Emotional Attachments, Unsanctioned classes, Until he learns to swim, and their consequences, at all, dangerous secrets, to never be alone again and for the power to take care of himself int he magical world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8256556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseudonymous_Entity/pseuds/Pseudonymous_Entity
Summary: We do stupid things when we're angry...like wandering the Chamber of Secrets alone in the middle of the night. Mistakes like this are easier to hide when they aren't following you around, whispering advice and invading your personal space. InvoluntaryApprentice!Harry. A basilisk wasn't the only thing Hogwarts kept locked away for centuries.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Warning, contains a lot of morally ambiguous choices and the manipulation can be disturbingly intense at times.

Let them be angry.

Harry sat on the damp floor of an abandoned washroom. The walls and the stone tiles of the floor glistened with a wetness that never quite managed to go away. A mirror decorated with build up and condensation hung upon the wall to his right. Below it three sinks stood. Two of them leaked, water dropping from them into the half filled basin below like a metronome. No sign of the spirit which often inhabited the room. She must be off in some other bathroom today. He unfolded his legs and pushed them out in front of him, ignoring the splash of water from one of many puddles littering the floor. Being there alone was all the better for Harry. The Gryffindor tilted himself to the side a bit and reached a hand into the pocket of his slacks. He retrieved a brownie wrapped in some napkins. The only thing he bothered grabbing from the impromptu party the tower was throwing in his honour. Harry nibbled at it without really tasting it. Chewy and soft. It would have been enjoyable if he were in the mood for enjoyment.

The raven haired wizard began to fold one of his napkins into a crane.

Why was Ron jealous?

Harry pondered this for the fourth or perhaps fifth time that night. Trying to justify his friend's behaviour and failing to do. Harry knew that often if you have to go out of your way to validate something someone -or even yourself- does or says then they probably shouldn't be doing or have done it. It was your subconscious way of pointing out to yourself that something was right. The red head said he was upset Harry didn't take him to put his name in as well. But no that wasn't enough for him to be this upset. Disappointed that he wasn't chosen. More specifically perhaps...that he missed a chance to be chosen over Harry. To be better than him.

He set the finished crane carefully in a puddle, letting it float. Harry's hand reached for another napkin and began to fold it. Cranes were the only thing he knew how to make so another crane it would be.

The strength of his friend's anger and jealousy towards him troubled Harry. Was it just that strong of a reaction or had Ron been holding it in for so long that it came out in a burst? Harry swallowed the last bit of brownie in his mouth hard. His throat hurt. How could you harbor such negative feelings for someone else and still call yourself their friend? Shouldn't Ron have mentioned something? But no. No, he'd known. Harry knew. It was his eyes or the way he said the things he said sometimes without thinking. He'd known Ron was jealous of him at times. It was why he never brought the boy down to his vaults with him or even offered to. Why he purposefully avoided bring attention to his new robes or new books. He'd known. Harry had known and he had ignored it. Hoping maybe that it would go away on its own. That Ron would get over it. That it wouldn't have gotten to this point.

I don't know why I care.

Harry fixed a corner, smoothing out a wrinkle before setting the crane down to join the other. One more and he'd have a set of three. One for Ron, one for Hermione, one for...

Why did he have to apologize? Be understanding. Patient. They expected him to be. Hermione left him after assuring him she did not think he entered himself in the tournament to see to Ron- and after extracting a promise from Harry that he wouldn't do anything stupid. Harry hadn't promised anything -or even responded- but she'd taken his silence as agreement and gone to find Ron. To calm him down. Allow him to vent his insecurities. Help him to realize he was wrong to take them out on Harry. And Harry? Left to his own devices. To pretend he was pleased in the face of his fellow Gryffindors, the tower much excited to have a member of their house competing. He was left to smile and act assured and confident when he felt like screaming. Or crying. Or both.

The last crane sat in the palms of his hand. He stared at it. With a short waved it animated, lifting it's wings up and down in the parody of flight. His hands were shaking a bit he noticed in a detached way. He probably shouldn't be here.

Harry was frightened. He was frightened but he didn't get to be frightened. Not when he chased after the stone. Not when he faced down a basilisk below this very floor. Not when stood between his friends and a murderer. Not even when he fled through the woods at the world cup in a sea of other, frightened people. Even then he had to seem as if he had it together. That he had a plan or was confident he would get through whatever was happening. It wasn't true. He never knew if he would be able to do what he set out to. He was often scared, unsure, close to turning back. Harry was a child yet. If not has childlike mentally and emotionally as was proper. Still, he was the same age them. Younger even. Couldn't he be weak? Just once. Couldn't someone comfort him? Protect him. Save him. Or was that selfish?

I was better off alone.

Harry's hands curled into fists, crumpling the crane still within them. The paper bird gave a startled squeaked that was quickly silenced. He stood and tossed it aside. It hit the floor with a wet thwack, rolling over twice to the edge of the puddle the other two floated in. Neither bird looked its way.

Couldn't he be angry for a little while? Just for a little while he would like to feel sorry for himself. Angry for the situations he found himself in. At the world for placing him in them, to begin with. At the adults for never being there to do the adulting and leaving it to him when he could hardly handle smiling day to day let alone pretending he was braver than he felt and calmer than he felt and more put together than he was. Harry's childhood was hardly the case study of a well developed, emotionally stable young person. If anything they were all lucky. Imagine what he could have done the last time he was here if he hadn't felt quite so accommodating

Ginny did. She sometimes jumped if he came up to her from behind. Harry would catch her giving him considering looks. As if she were comparing the two of them in her head. The future Dark Lord and The Boy Who Lived. They both found this place refuge. Where they wouldn't have to worry what the world thought of them. Where they could get even with them if they chose. But no. Harry made his choice the moment he let Tom control the basilisk. He didn't even try to convince the sixteen-year-old not to kill him. He didn't try to bargain or compromise. Almost as if...he wanted the basilisk to catch him. He wanted Riddle to get him. He wanted to be finished with it all. No. That was stupid. He was fine. He was always fine.

Except he really, really wasn't.

Do it. Just do it.

"Open."

Stone on stone grinding and groaning answered his call. Harry's heart skipped a couple beats. Was he really doing this? Was that fear or excitement? He stood there breathing in the rush of air that smelled like brine. Adrenaline. Green eyes stared down the whole in the ground that wasn't there moments before. Did this count as jumping down the rabbit hole if he'd already done it? Or was it one of those moments where the intentions...the motivation meant everything. Harry didn't have ulterior motives. He just wanted to get away. From everything.

Now.

Harry jumped. This time, he slid down on his feet rather than sliding through on his back. This was just as exciting but a lot cleaner. His knees were bent, head ducked, arms out. He jolted back in forth, legs sliding apart at times and almost too close at others. His fingers inches from the slick sides of the tunnel. He whipped along faster than his eyes could keep up with. Harry considered trying to get to his original position of flailing wildly on his back as it seemed a hell of a lot safer. He was very aware he could snap his ankle at any moment. Or his neck if he leaned up too far. The end came into sight, Harry's legs tense and sprang. The raven haired teen landed amongst the mud and strewn animal parts mixed with various unidentified bits decorating the floor. A macabre sort of silt. Cracking and creaking bones echoed ominously in the entry chamber. Harry remembered the first time he came down here Ron had shuddered with nearly every step he took.

But there wasn't anything to be afraid of. He turned and began down the path. What could he meet here that he wasn't prepared for? Giant snake? Been there. Dark Lord? Done that. The life draining spirit had, of course, disappeared when he pierced its diary with a fang from the very basilisk it set to kill him. He could appreciate the irony in that. An odd pang followed the thought. He really was alone now. Riddle had to be taken care of. Dumbledore wouldn't have let the boy walk out of Hogwarts even if he managed to regain a body in a fashion that didn't include another being losing their life. It was comforting. In a way he would never admit to his friends. Comforting to have had for only a short time someone who understood. How could they relate, in all honesty? How? They didn't know what it was like to grow up with people who hated him. Feared him. Wishing yourself anywhere else. Hating them. Doing everything you could to get their attention and always being rejected. Then to find out to you were special and come to a magical world where even more labels were thrown at you. Where you were judged again. To be feared for something you couldn't help. Parseltongue wasn't something he went out searching for. He was born with it. It was a part of him and they hated and feared it and even though he knew it was prejudice from years and years ago it still stung. Harry couldn't cut it off to appease them. He could only pretend it wasn't there. That all the pieces of him they might not like weren't there at all.

The biggest different between him and Tom, Harry reflected, was that even Dumbledore believed Harry's pretending.

Now he was alone and he felt sorry for it.

Harry paused and looked over his shoulder. How on earth was he to get back out? The last time he'd had a conveniently present Phoenix. He couldn't exactly call for Fawkes when no one was to know he was there. A little late to think of that, wasn't it? Harry turned back with a growl and stomped up to the divider at the other end. He didn't care right now. He would figure it out later. With a quick hiss, the cylindrical wall uncurled and parted. Harry slipped through into a larger passage. At the end, it would lead to the main chamber housing the statue of Slytherin. From that very statue came the basilisk when Riddle called for it. He stopped there, green eyes sliding over the room. The Chamber of Secrets. That was plural you know. So what else might have been here? The snake guarded it surely and kept its self hidden away. There must be more. You would think so. Harry didn't get the chance to ask Riddle what with attempting to outrun his pet at the time. He grinned. Imagine the look on the sixteen-year-olds face if little Harry Potter started asking him things like that rather than run off from the snake screaming. Would the teenage dark lord have wondered if there was something wrong with him? Harry often did. If there was something wrong with himself.

Secrets. He was thinking about secrets.

Well if there wasn't anyone around to tell him he would just have top find them himself. Tom managed it. He figured out the right thing to say and Hell he found the damn place. Let's see if their similarities extended to abilities to find hidden things. Harry didn't think finding the room leading to the stone's obstacle course counted as he'd found it quite by accident.

He began exploring the chamber and the many smaller tunnels leading off of it in a mangled maze. Maybe if he was lucky he would find something to help him in this horrid tournament. He valiantly ignored that his luck usually came at a price. He needed something to even it out between him and the seventeen-year-olds. Maybe even something to win. His mind whirled about as the young wizard wandered throughout the chamber. Winning. He hadn't thought about winning it before this moment. Surviving it certainly. But winning. Well. If he had to be in it, he could at least give everyone a show while he was at it. He would find something. A potion. A spell. Something to help him. Harry should have been more studious. Learned more. He was in a magical world. If anything the homework was far more interesting than what he got in the muggle world. Though he could cast a Patronus if they chucked Dementors at them he thought viscously. He'd like to see the other competitors do that. Lupin told him even adult wizards had trouble with it.

He wiped his smugness away. That was a horrible thing to think. Still.

Why shouldn't I take advantage of my talents?

Harry combed every inch, every corner and crevice, every statue and carving and faded mural. They were examined, tapped, knocked upon and prodded with his wand. Harry took to randomly speaking in parseltongue hoping he might find a password by accident as he often did. The chamber was as a whole far more interesting than it was his previous visit. Ignoring the attempted murder. Statues and carvings intricately crafted were placed around, featuring unknown -to harry at least- wizards and creatures. A lot of them were etched with runes, Harry didn't recognize most of them only enough to know what they were. He didn't know enough to know if there was anything to it. Hermione would if he asked-

I can do this on my own. I'm not stupid.

Harry leaned against the nearest wall. The smell of brine was curiously lesser down here than at the tunnels opening in the washroom. Why was that? His fingers ran along the carving in the wall behind him, following the grooves. Moss grew along bits of it, soft in contrast to the smooth, hard stone they grew upon.

Riddle figured it out. And the little dark lord used a spoken password. The Marauder's Map the twins gave him used two of them, one to activated it and one to close. The tunnel open with a spoken password as well. Both of those passwords were different than the ones used to get into Gryffindor tower. The one used to get into the other houses were different. They required different things. You had to answer a riddle to get into Ravenclaw common room. Some sort of puzzle for Hufflepuff. Find the right bit of wall for Slytherin.

But the passwords for the chamber and the map. They were different even more so. You had to say exactly what you wanted. You were honest, weren't you? You wanted to do something you shouldn't thus the map revealed its self to you. You wanted the tunnel to open thus it did. A fixed word or phrase that did not change. There were a lot of possibilities now which made it at once both hopeful and more daunting a task. Harry blew out a breath in a hard puff. This may take a while.

It was a good thing he had all weekend. If he was gone everyone would think he was sulking, hiding from the attention or preparing.

All of those assumptions suited Harry.

"Open."

"Hello?"

"I'm looking for something."

"I want to know your secret..oh...reveal your secrets! Darn."

He went through many declarations. Some more creative than others. When he started to get bored Harry tried to do them in a way to entertain himself as well. He shouted some and whispered others. For some, he twirled on one led and for another, he sang it out. A tribute to Fluffy the Cerberus. Harry knocked on carvings while saying some of them and offered to give statues a good cleaning. Could you bribe inanimate objects? Finally, frustrated and agitated and filled up to the brim with dissatisfactions Harry shouted out; "I SEEK A BLOODY SECRET!"

To his complete and under disbelief it worked.

He should bottle his luck because it was ridiculous. This was usually the point the spiders turned on them or the professor was a werewolf and it was the full moon and he'd forgotten to take his potion... Well, nothing to do about that now. He would have to put a warning of side effects on the bottle. No one read them anyway so it wasn't his fault if things didn't turn out quite the way they imagined they might. It was magic. Of course, there was more to it than a simple explanation or... He was getting off course.

There just to the right of the statue of Slytherin, the entire wall shimmered, groaned and slid back. It revealed stairs carved into the stone. Narrow and inclined leading up nearly fifty feet to a small platform perhaps the width of his bed in the dorms. His luck was ridiculous he thought to himself once more. As long as he owned it that was what mattered. Almost without a conscious thought his feet began toward the stairs, his footsteps suddenly loud to his ears. Shoes smacking against the damp stone and splashing in the puddles. He stood at the base of the staircase, each stair maybe a foot in length and four inches in width across. He hesitated. This probably wasn't a good idea. If he had Ron and Hermione with him-

This is my adventure.

He placed one foot on the stairs after the other, climbing. Somewhere inside of him his inner Slytherin pieces that almost sorted him to the house warred with themselves. On one hand, this was incredibly reckless. On the other, he was exploring a part of the castle no one else had ever seen. The last person to climb these stairs could have been the founder himself or even Tom Riddle. Albus Dumbledore had never done this. Would never do it. Hermione couldn't have done it. She would never curse for one or go searching for something like this or speak parseltongue even if she was able. Ron's password would be honest if it were I SEEK GLORY than a secret. This was something all his own. And that was addicting. Things no one else had seen. Information no one else would know. Ambition won out to his inner Gryffindor's confused exultation as it'd been pouting in the corner. What was wrong with some adventure?

Harry really needed to stop thinking of himself as multiple people. That just couldn't be healthy in the grander scheme of things.

Right about then he made his first mistake. The fourteen-year-old looked down. Green eyes widened, a foot tripped, his body fell. He was sliding! Harry just managed to cling to the steps with his arms as his legs fell over the side and swung down and against the wall with a hard thud. He dangled. Harry breathed in and out and in. He swallowed, gave a nod and got a better grip.

"Alright, new rule Potter. Never look down." Unable to pull himself up Harry tried to visualize the entire thing as a sort of non-regulation set of monkey bars. He pushed himself back and used his hands to get from one step to the other. He used to do this all of the time. Surely he could do it again? Especially as he had no desire to test his ability to sustain a fall from thirty feet to hard rock flooring. Harry kept his eyes on the next step, getting a rhythm. This one. That one. This one. That one. Another five feet the stairs gave a shudder. He heard a small crash.

"Don't look. Don't look. Just keep going. It's probably not important." Crash. "Damn it all to Hell anyway." Harry looked.

The first few steps at the bottom were committing suicide. Breaking off and falling to the floor in crumbled heaps. It may have become unstable when he fell on it. Not bad though he could just jump the last eight feet. He still had this. It wasn't until he saw the cracks forming in the stairs closer to him he realized where this was going. Crash. Harry swore some more and shook himself out of his denial driven daze. Scrambling Harry looked around for something -anything- he could use to get back onto the staircase. He thought he could make it to the platform. Running was sort of his thing. Harry didn't know if the platform its self would hold if the rest of the staircase went down as it threatened to but he knew he didn't want to be hanging thirty feet from the ground when it finally decided.

His leg banged against something. Chancing it, he let himself hang a bit more and discovered a wall hanging for a torch. Harry tested his weight against it experimentally. It gave out an eerie grinding sound. He grimaced. It would have to do, wouldn't it? Holding his breath Harry put his feet against it and pushed himself up, pulling with his arms. He managed to get himself halfway back on the stairs.

A shudder. A boom. Dust rose into the air.

He glanced to the left warily. The entire lower portion was gone! Terror was an excellent motivator it turns out for Harry found himself clambering to his feet and running up the remaining stairs, skipping three or four at a time. Something he wouldn't have dared if his life wasn't in danger. "Oh God...oh God.." He almost slipped to his -probable- death at one point when he looked over his shoulder to see how much time he had. The answer was not a lot. Heart squeezing in his chest the teen wizard threw himself forward onto the platform as the rest of the staircase went crashing to the floor. The colliding echoes of booms was overwhelming. Harry curled into a ball, eyes shut and hands tight against his ears.

When the clamor ended an even louder silence rose in its place. Harry squinted his eyes open against the dust lingering in the air, to his lashes. He shoved himself to a sitting position, hand sliding in the dust on the stone. He was covered in dust. Harry pulled a sleeve over his hand and used it to wipe the dirt from his face. His glasses -which had fallen at some point and were cracked horribly- were shoved into a pocket to be fixed later. He took a moment to wonder how exactly he was going to get back down. Harry slumped against the wall.

He really, really needed to start thinking things through.

Wasn't that exciting, though?

There was a carving on the wall. Harry's fingers felt it. He scooted forward and turned around. It was a tree of some kind rising up the wall. It was probably taller than Harry if he had been standing. Its roots at the other end of the carving descended beyond the platform reaching toward the ground. Branches and leaves twisted around one another with words barely visible spiraling within the design. Harry traced the grooves of it with his fingertips as he'd done the ones on the walls below. He was no master of art or art's history. He knew it was an incredible bit of art none the less. Harry rubbed at some of the words willing them to make sense. Maybe he could come back with some parchment, lay it on the picture and run a pencil over it to get the design so he could look at in the library.

An uneven edge nicked his thumb, blood smearing across it. A rush of guilt flooded him. No one would see what he had done. He wished hadn't messed up the picture regardless. Harry shifted and rose onto his knees. With a sigh, he pulled down his sleeve over his hand once more. It was already dirty from the dust what harm was a little blood? He would have to think of a cover if he couldn't get himself cleaned before anyone saw him. Assuming he ever made it out of there. Harry looked up and froze, hand hovering in the air. His blood was soaking into the carving. It reminded him so strongly of the events leading to his first time in the chamber it gave him chills. As the blood hit the roots a flash of light sparked out. Golden wiry strings of light began lighting up the roots then traveling up into the branches.

Harry stood warily, backing up. He turned and forced himself to hold still. There wasn't a lot of room for alarmed movement up here. Harry watched the light rising through the trunk, into the branches, into the leaves and the words. It wasn't quite as ominous as a book writing back to you or sucking you inside of it to show you memories in order to manipulate you. Still. This was a bad idea. He knew it when the wall slid aside to reveal a narrow corridor. Harry ought to try to find a way to get someone to rescue him. Or to get out. He should leave and never come back. Or maybe come back with his friends. They wouldn't know what to do. Hermione would.

I don't need them. I can do this on my own. I don't need anybody.

In the end, he couldn't resist. This was a secret even Riddle had not seen. It gave him a rush. A place entirely his own that no one else would ever see, no one else would ever know. He didn't have to share it. The secrets within would be his own alone. Harry shoved his trepidation to walk forward into the unknown. It was dark. And longer that he'd thought, the light from the main chamber fading behind him. Harry kept one hand on the wall beside him to keep himself from getting lost. Eventually, the way ahead grew lighter and the corridor opened into a room that could contain several Great Halls.

What Harry would have noticed first -were he anyone else- was that the library went up several stories from the level he found himself standing on, and down several as well. Or that there was a huge hidden library beneath Hogwarts. What Harry did notice was the lack of dust. Everything was clean/ Not what a normal teenager may have focused on but as Harry grew up with Dursleys and knew a great deal about keep things clean he knew the work that went into maintaining something like this. With his added experience of the wizarding world's obsession with house elves, he came to an unsettling conclusion. Someone -or something- was down here. Or came down here often enough to keep it this way. Did the Hogwarts elves take care of it? If they did why didn't anyone know about it? Why wouldn't they have told them about the giant snake in the other part of the chamber because that was information that could have saved him from being labeled a future Dark lord by the rest of the student body? Why didn't they stop Ginny or try to help Harry when he was fleeing from the basilisk?

It was second year all over again. It put him on edge. Hated by the school. Awful rumours. In the bloody Chamber of Secrets in the dead of night. Seemingly innocent literature lying about. Speaking of which.

Harry stopped at the end of the level and looked around. There didn't seem to be a way to get to next level either up or down. There must be a way of course. There was always a way. Harry walked back the way he came looking for a pull-down ladder or maybe another carving he could feed his blood into. He blinked when he realized he could no longer locate the tunnel he came in through. The entrance seemed to have been sealed away or covered by the endless bookshelves. Well. This was the Chamber of Secrets, wasn't it? So where the Hell was the secret Slytherin method of getting down?

He glanced over the edges of the shelving looking for designs, carvings, pictures. A clue. Those grooves there. Harry flicked his eyes between them, then he wanted to smack himself in the head. Who ever heard of snakes that liked climbing anyway. Harry leaned around and stuck a foot into one of the grooves, then his other foot. His hands fastened to the grooves that were higher up. Carefully he used them to climb down. As he suspected the grooves took him to the next balcony below. The ladder or stairs were built into the bookcases. Creative. He continued until his shoes hit the ground floor. The experience was far less exciting than the stairs he used coming in for which he was thankful. Having so many books fall on him would probably kill him. Death by literature. Merlin how embarrassing. He wouldn't be able to face his parents in the afterlife if he died in such a way.

It was a different quiet down there. Pressing in on him from all sides. His footsteps were quiet without him intentionally making them so. His voice when he tried speaking -though he did do that quietly. He didn't want to alert anyone to his presence. It was all so muted and compressed.

Was it a spell?

Or his imagination maybe.

Paintings and statues were everywhere down there along with maps of lands he'd never heard of before and globes of various sizes and materials. There were smaller globes on a table Harry thought might be made from a seashell. He felt like he was breaking into an exclusive, expensive museum. His eyes flickered about as he walked noting there weren't as many books down here as there were in upper levels. In fact, there were things with words written on them that were neither books nor scrolls. A pile of tablets near him had words etched into the wax spread over their face. On the other table there lay a sort of accordion folded packet of parchment with ribbons threaded through it. Or it may have been really thin leather or something. He examined those in interest though he refrained from touching anything. Whoever or whatever was keeping this place up wouldn't appreciate an intruder smearing or damaging the objects kept within. They were all obviously well cared for. A brief image of a dragon guarding the 'treasure' room had him both grinning and being even more cautious.

It was the wizarding world and one never knew.

In the middle of the hall, where the floor had paintings and runes and words decorating it without much free space, a necklace or amulet was suspended in the air under a glass jar upon a podium. There wasn't anything placed near to it. Harry thought he heard...whispering. Was someone here? He took more steps toward the glass jar, glancing around him cautiously. The closer he came the more clearly he could hear whispers. It made his skin crawl. An alarm sounded in the back of his mind. He couldn't stop moving toward it. As if he must see it. Know what it was. The edge of the podium just under the jar as words similar to those etched in the tree carving. He still didn't know what they said. Harry tapped a fingernail against the glass. It chimed. The hairs on his arms pricked up.

He would have to look up the object. And those words. Maybe there was a scroll or book nearby with its history. Hopefully in English or Latin. Hermione would be drowning in jealousy at the information he had at his fingertips. She'd probably-

This was his secret.

Hermione would never see this place. She could sit and stew and wonder where he found the knowledge he had and Harry would never tell her. She didn't deserve to know. He was the one who wanted to save her from the troll. He was the reason she was alive. The reason Gryffindor tolerated her. It was him. How could she abandon that so easily? Ron wouldn't have gone after her and she would have died. But she cared for him, Harry reminded himself. Hermione cared for Ron. In that way. For whatever reason. And emotions clouded your judgment. He was being spiteful. And it would pass. For now, he let himself be upset.

Harry stood there letting the anger roll over and down and through him. Then he shoved it into a corner of his mind. He'd been doing so well at pretending everything was alright. He knew how she felt. He knew why she chose to go to Ron over him. He had just...expected her to be more understanding. To show him some support before running after Ron. Ron. Harry grew up in a cupboard and he had a higher sense of self-worth than the red head and that was unbelievable sad when you considered Harry thought his name was Freak until he was seven. His best mate's inferiority complex was tiresome. When would he grow up? And the rest of the student body as well. How could they live being so immature and petty all of the time? It had to be exhausting. Was this what normal teenagers were like? Was he the odd one here. The abnormality... They could at least direct it at someone else once in a while. Why did they care so much if he was the fourth champion? Why get so upset? Didn't they realize somewhere in there that he was only a fourth year? Boy-who-lived or not, unless they were going to shoot killing curses at him he was under-prepared and under skilled for such a challenge. It was highly unlikely he would win.

So why act like he kicked the Hufflepuff's puppies?

Idiotic. Flighty. Moronic...

"You shouldn't be down here you know." Harry about jumped out of his skin. He whirled around to see a man sitting in a chair as if he were holding court. With burgundy eyes and dark hair Harry almost mistook him for an older Tom Riddle come back to finish him. He could tell now that there were differences. In his twenties, dark hair stuck up around his hat though Harry suspected it was intentional as the overall effect was neater than his ever managed to be. The man wore red slacks and a long unbuttoned vest with golden thread. The yellow snake coiled around his left arm was what really made him stand out. That and the velvet top hat. Who wore velvet top hats?

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

After a beat, his stomach dropped. He'd slipped into parseltongue while staring at the snake. He was about to repeat himself in English, and feeling relieved the man hadn't noticed and freaked out when the man answered him. "I am the Keeper of the Archives." He said it grandly, giving him a mocking half-bow from where he remained seated.

That didn't mean much of anything to Harry. Hermione was the researcher, not him. Then again he was fairly certain he'd have heard of such a person before now if it were common knowledge. And Harry knew he would notice a man walking about in red silk. This must be who was keeping the place tidy. He certainly did a good job of it. Hang on...did he just speak parseltongue? "You can understand me?" Harry was a tad concerned how excited the prospect made him.

"I can. I understand many languages. However, I have spoken this one in particular since my birth. I know it very well. I imagine it must have been the same for you? I have yet to come across anyone who learned through a second party speak it as flawlessly as yourself."

Harry's cheeks flushed, lips widening into a smile. He found someone he could speak parseltongue with and they weren't a dark lord! If anything the man had the snake for conversation while he was down here. A librarian with a hat fetish. He could work with that.

"I have always been able to speak this way. I did not realize the name of it or even that I was speaking another language until a few years ago." The words flowed out of him. It sounded relieved even to himself. Someone who would understand. "I could never hear the difference between it and English. Even now I have to concentrate or I'll accidentally speak one when I mean to speak the other. I did it just now, I automatically assumed you speak English and I was terrified what you would do when I realized I spoke parseltongue instead."

The man's lip pulled upward. Boy? He seemed even younger now. Maybe Percy's age. "You really shouldn't be down here." He repeated. "And I can't help but wonder how you have managed to find yourself down here in the depths of the school all alone." Long fingers stroked his snake, gently unwinding it from his arm.

Harry hesitated. What would he say? He two friends -and wasn't that pathetic all on its own- weren't speaking to him because someone put his name in for a deadly tournament and the now the entire school hated him? Again. Yes, that would be a shining example of a good first impression. Wait why did he even care? Just because he was another parselmouth didn't mean he had to care if he liked him. Only he did. Damn it. Harry wanted to bang his head against a wall.

"Or maybe," the other wizard continued after the silence dragged on, "we could speak of other things. Your large clothing. How thin you are. The dark magic centered on your forehead beneath the rune carved there. Why you were so angry a moment ago..."

Harry averted his eyes, finding the man's -boy's?- gaze too knowing for his liking. "You don't know who I am then? You don't recognize me?"

"We've never met." With that, the Keeper of the Archives stood fluidly. He walked toward him, his strides long and slow and lazy. A soft smile on his face was inviting enough so Harry didn't understand the chills that curled up his spine when the young man circled behind him, leaving his line of sight. He thought of turning to see him and then refrained. He didn't want to let on how unnerved he was. How his heart sped up, his breaths stuttered when he drew near. It was just because he was here again. Because it was a stranger. That was all.

"They left you all on your own little snake speaker. I have to wonder why. Don't they...want you?" The Keeper's tone of voice shifted. Lower. Quieter. Sweeter. And something unknown that made Harry's skin crawl.

"My friends and I aren't really speaking right now."

The Keeper continued on to another lazy loop around him. "Are you sure that's what it is? Are you really angry at one another...or are they angry at you? Did one of them side with the other over you? Prefer him to you? Maybe they don't want you around. Perhaps it's all just an excuse to sever ties-"

"They do!" He snapped automatically. "Or at least Hermione does. Ron will...my friend will get over it. He's just jealous." Harry realized he probably shouldn't be naming names. He didn't know who this wizard spoke to when he wasn't down here creeping out teenagers. Harry wouldn't want his complaints getting around. That's the last thing he needed.

The Keeper shifted. "Jealous. Such a lovely word. Jealous..." The man/boy drawled. "His jealousy is enough for him to let you wander alone? To somewhere as dangerous as the Archives? How...irresponsible. Careless." He ran his fingers along Harry's too long shirt sleeves as he passed and Harry began to notice they were shrunk to fit his form. He tried valiantly not to blush. Most of the time he assumed everyone thought he wore baggy clothing on purpose as no one had ever called him out on it. It was hard to stay still. In the silence and quiet pressing down on him. The chime from the glass jar still just barely heard echoing through the outer areas of the massive hall. Part of him wanted to run. A louder part of him told him to stay still. If ran he'd be chased. So tried to hold himself still. Tried to keep his breathing even. To act like he didn't feel like he was being hunted.

"They don't know I'm here. He wouldn't have let me come at all if he knew. I left while he was upstairs. Everyone else is either having a party or ignoring me anyway." Why did he tell him no one knew he was here? Harry twisted the ends of his fitted sleeves, left loose at the ends and a bit long. Perhaps the other wizard noticed his habit? That was a lot of noticing. Too much. In too short a space of time.

The Keeper's steps slowed. He stopped in front of him. Red eyes looked him over for a moment, considering him, making opinions Harry wouldn't know. The wizard leaned closer. "You don't want them here. Either of them. You want to keep this place to yourself. You do not plan to tell them of your discovery."

"I deserve to have space to myself!" Harry burst out. His hands curled into fists. How the hell did this guy know any of this? Shivering Harry turned away intending to leave. He couldn't handle this right now. Emotions affected your ability to think logical. They affect your actions. He was letting himself get too emotional. He was too far out of his golden mask. Harry needed to get a grip. To go back to the dorms and go to sleep. Ron might have gotten over by the morning. Hermione would help Harry talk to him if the redhead hadn't.

He shouldn't be here.

"Leaving...so soon?" The Keeper twirled into his path, long vest swirling around him. The older boy rested hands on Harry's shoulder grinning. He twirled about again, behind Harry, resting a hand on both of his shoulders. "Why should you go running back to them? Why should you have to be the one to compromise little snake speaker? And why should you have to work to earn their favour, to regain it? Should they not apologize to you? Don't you...deserve it?" A hand stroked up and down his arm. "You didn't ask for any of this. I don't think they trust you. I think they underestimate you. Take you for granted."

Cool breaths caressed his ear. Harry shivered again. Violently. He knew this guy was doing something, wanted something. It was just so hard to focus in the quiet and the whispers, and the necklace was shiny and pretty to look at. The whispers. The whispers vibrated the bones in his skin. He couldn't think straight. Thoughts were so fuzzy.

"Yes, they should apologize." He heard himself say. "But they won't. If I let it go Ron will come around eventually and-"

"And then? You will pretend it never happened. He will be The Boy Who Lived's best friend again and you can walk around tense and ready for the next blow up. The next time he will leave you. Wondering if it will be for good this time."

Harry couldn't catch his breath. Something inside of him twisted as words he so often thought were spoken aloud. His fears laid bare. How could someone who only just met him see through him so completely? It wasn't fair. To spend so much time building up walls and painting on faces to please everyone. No one saw through them. Not even Dumbledore. They all saw what they wanted to see. But this wizard came in and broke through the walls like he hadn't seen them. And Harry let him. "He won't." Harry tried. "He won't leave again. This hasn't ever happened before." He thought he should leave.

"Oh but that's not true, love." Hands ran down his arms again. "Do you remember the look in his eyes when you received your father's cloak of invisibility? The way they glimmered when you first spoke to snake in front of him? This jealousy. These doubts. Have always been there. You know this is true my clever young wizard. Are you so desperate for companionship that you would submit yourself to a friendship that may be less than worthy?"

Harry wanted to scream. Or cry. Or break something. It would be so much easier if it wasn't the truth. If it wasn't his own secret opinions and just the murmurings of a stranger who didn't know any better. And he kept answering him. Why wasn't he leaving? Hadn't he been leaving? Harry was sure that was what he decided to do. He wanted to leave, didn't he? Go somewhere safe. Because he wasn't here. He knew he wasn't safe so why was he staying? Anyone else would run off and never look back. Harry wasn't stupid. He'd known the moment he saw The Keeper that coming down here was a mistake. Where were those Slytherin survival instincts? Too wrapped up in ambition and greed Harry feared. And far too aware that running would be fruitless. Oh, what had he done coming here?

"I've never had friends before. They like me for who I am. How can I give that up?" His voice cracked and he hated it.

"Did they like you before or after they knew who you were? Did Ron choose your carriage because there were none open or because he saw someone in worse clothing than himself? I bet the first thing he did was ask you to lift your fringe for him when he realized who you were." The Keeper didn't give Harry time to respond which was good as Harry's heart had shoved its self up into his throat. "I could be your friend. If you let me."

"Why would you do that?" Harry rasped. "What do you want from me?"

The un-age-define-able wizard lay his chin on the top of Harry's head. The hands on his arms pulling him back against his chest. The hands started their soothing motions once more. "I rather like you little snake. You are so small and sad. It's adorable."

A startled laugh broke out of Harry. What an odd thing to say.

"I could do more than be your friend. I can show you things. Things you've never seen. Things they wouldn't teach you. They would say you are too young or that you wouldn't understand. That you wouldn't be able to do them." The Keep spoke quicker. Excited. "I haven't had another to talk to, to teach, in so very long. You would let me, wouldn't you? And you could tell me everything I have missed in the world. I haven't had news in a while."

Harry's eyes looked down at the paintings on the floor, up to the books on the cases, around to the different objects kept within the room. Anything to distract himself from that voice, from those words. He had to keep himself grounded. His eyes locked on the necklace in the glass jar. Another mistake. "What, what sort of things?" He asked. Harry took an involuntary step toward it.

A delighted laugh. The Keeper darted around him. He clapped. "Oh, so many wonderful things! Where should I start? Would you like to know how to fly without a broom? I can teach you to sail the skies, speak to the stars, see the threads of Fate. I could even," The red-eyed wizard leaned very close, "teach you to bring the dead to life."

"You sound like my potions master," Murmured Harry. The glass jar was within touching distance now. It couldn't hurt to take a look at it, could it? Just a look. "He's as passionate about his potions as you are about your secrets." He should leave. Right now. He should turn away and go back. Why wasn't moving? His feet wouldn't listen. He knew he should leave but he wanted to stay. That alone sent the bells in the corners of his mind clanging. Danger! They shouted. Danger...

A beaming smile. "Passionate. I like that." Long fingers brushed Harry's bangs out of his face. "Would you like to learn some of my secrets Harry? I can do anything you wish. Any type of spell. All you must do is ask and your wish will be my command."

Something about that caught Harry's attention and he managed to drag his eyes away from the necklace, locking them on the other wizard instead. His feet still wouldn't listen. His heart wouldn't listen, intent on beating straight out of his chest. His lungs even couldn't seem to find the strength to draw in a proper breath. Breathe Harry. "How's that?" He voiced the question steady. Thank merlin.

The Keeper bounced on his feet. His hands flitting about as he spoke like he was conducting an orchestra, red silk flowing. "Power like this, like mine, is sealed away for a reason Harry. A very silly reason sometimes. They never wanted anyone else to learn of it. To have it. I thought everyone with the potential should be taught, pushed to the limits of their talents. I believed we had a responsibility to make certain the future magic users became more with each generation than the one before. Building upon a solid foundation left to them. To grow. I believed if we pushed hard enough, trained long enough, learned and researched...we would discover we were limitless. That magic was limitless. Masters of the Universe." A sound somewhere between a growl and purr came out of the boy. "They wanted to lord their own power over the magical beings of this world. They wouldn't say it in such a way but that is what it amounts to. They thought it would be fairer to lump everyone in together and give them all the same materials. They wanted to keep everyone on the same level so when someone managed to 'accidentally' break out of the shell it would be an anomaly and no one would feel inferior. In reality, I frightened them. Students would come to me. People traveled to see me, ask me questions. Scholars from all over the world. Me. The youngest of the lot. How it infuriated them. Out of control, they called me. Out of line. Well...they couldn't have anyone threatening their superiority could they?"

"And you threatened them." Harry guessed.

The Keeper flashed his teeth. "Indeed." His snake whom Harry had quite forgotten gave a hiss of laughter from the chair. It lay coiled there. Watching. "I have limited access to my powers within these walls as a result."

Harry chew his lip. "Why don't you leave then? It isn't right for them to keep you here. And you've been here long enough maybe they aren't watching you anymore. I bet you could come out." Where would the other boy go? A slight tremor of disappointment hit him. What if the other wizard left and he didn't get to see him anymore? Maybe he could convince him to stay nearby. In Hogsmeade or teach at the school if he liked it that much. Somewhere close...

Long fingers left his bangs, traced the sides of his face and then were pulled back. "Oh, I would love to come out." The Keeper breathed. "Therein lies the problem. I can only use my full magic for someone else's benefit. What's more I can only leave this place under the control of a master." He said the last bitterly.

Harry frowned. "They made you...their servant? That isn't fair. That's not right. Just because you wouldn't do what they wanted or be who they wanted you to be. That doesn't give them the right to force you to do whatever they wanted. They could have left. Or asked you to leave." The raven haired teen's mind raced. He felt a shocking amount of outrage on the other wizard's behalf. Maybe Harry could help? There was so much stuff down here, surely they could work together and find a counterspell of some sort and set the poor wizard free. No one deserved to be shoved out of sight because they were different and then brought back out when it was convenient for you. Tugged and tossed around according to their current popularity. A toy for the public. How dare anyone be any different than anyone else? Any different than what you want them to be? Who cares for their happiness as long as everyone fits into the black white boxes you made for them right? Ludicrous.

"How can I help?" Harry's mouth asked.

Burgundy eyes glittered. "If you were willing to take the title of the master I could leave this room with you. I could use my powers whenever you like for whatever purpose you like. I'd be able to teach you everything I know." His voice was soft and sweet again. Almost affectionate.

Whispers. What were they saying? He couldn't understand them. "Wouldn't people notice you walking about with me?" Harry asked vaguely, losing track of what they were talking about. His gaze locked on the necklace once more. He wanted to put it on. Maybe he should. Only for a moment. He just wanted to see it. To have a closer look.

The older boy was waving a hand in his peripheral vision. "I can take care of that. I can even make it so no one but you can see me if you like."

"Yeah...that might be best. Just for a little while."

"As long as you like my little snake speaker." The wizard stepped beside him, taking hold of Harry's wrist gently when he had reached out to move the glass jar. "Careful. You have to say the words first. We have to do this properly. I will submit to you. Teach everything you wish to know. Help you learn anything you need to learn. Do whatever you ask of me. Keep you safe. In exchange, you will take me out of here and tell me what I need to know about the world as it is now. Do we have a deal?"

Why not?

"Yes...we have a...deal." Suddenly his hand was free.

Harry moved the jar aside. He grasped the chain of the necklace carefully. It was heavy and smooth, the medallion hanging on the end showed a snake wound about a half cut apple. A strange triangular symbol within it. Another circle... He pulled the chain over his head. The medallion landed with a thud against his chest. Silence loud and strong. Strength. Power. Energy. Something inside of him opening and pouring out, filling him. Too much. There was way too much of it. In his heart. In his arteries. In the veins of his arms and his legs and the sides of his neck. In his mind. Harry rocked on his feet as it slammed into him, waves of it crashing. The Keeper's power.

After a moment -when he found he could breathe and his hands had stopped shaking- Harry eyed the boy standing beside him. His mind was much clearer now. Questions piling up inside of it. "What's your name anyway? I can't just keep calling you The Keeper after all."

The wizard put his fingertips to Harry's chin, leaned down ad put his mouth to his ear. "They called me...Salazar."

Harry shook involuntarily. "Um, and these words here. What do they say?" He asked pointing at the words carved into the side of the podium. The same ones he'd seen in the tree etching. Harry looked up at the wizard and wished he hadn't. His breath left out of his lungs. Red eyes were staring at him. So intense. Focused. So close.

"...God save the Kings..."


	2. The Consequences

he thing about consequences is that you can never fully appreciate them until you're facing them.

Like respecting fire. Or accepting mortality. It's why we make so many more stupid choices when we are young. Our souls lack the pains of consequence to temper our spontaneous decision-making tendencies. It does balance out a bit as we grow older. Fewer mistakes are made in exchange for comparatively larger ones. Harder ones. Farther reaching ones. And sometimes we make mistakes we can't fix.

Big ones.

While Harry had a crisis raging on the inside, The Keeper turned about in a slow circle with his red eyes flowing over the contents of the Archives. "This tournament. What's your plan for it?" He asked.

"Not to die," Harry said bluntly. His mind raced from moment to moment, retracing all of his steps since entering the chamber. He hadn't noticed anyone was inside. He'd allowed himself to be swept along in his emotions. Allowed The Keeper to manipulate him because he offered something he wanted. So many mistakes to fix and he didn't know where to start.

Salazar paused to glance at him over his shoulder. "Is that all?"

Harry looked up. "Well, I..."

"Ah. You'd like to do well. You wouldn't mind winning." The Keeper appeared pleased with this news.

Harry wished he'd stop doing that. Reading his mind or whatever he was doing. He blinked at himself. He could just order him to stop, couldn't he? Harry wasn't sure how this whole master thing worked. "Maybe yeah." Could he set down some rules and order The Keeper to stay within the realm of those rules when he used his power? He'd have to be very careful not to leave any loopholes.

"What have you learned?" The wizard snapped his fingers. Two chairs and a small low table popped into existence. The Keeper seated himself. "What level are you at do you know? Any obscure or uncommon skills?" A bit of parchment appeared on the table.

Harry wracked his brain. Like what? "I...survived a killing curse. I speak parseltongue. I have used a time turner." Did any of those even count as skills? "Er...and I can cast an uh Patronus." Harry offered. In response, Salazar carefully wrote everything down.

"And your level?"

"I'm in fourth year?" Harry guessed wildly.

A sharp nod. "Thank you. Not a bad start anyway. Let's see the Patronus then." Red eyes caught his expectantly.

"What. Now?"

"Yes. Now please." Sal snapped his fingers twice, impatient. Harry found himself pulled up and dragged it the center of the room. Magic wrapping about him like sheets of silky fabric. Harry straightened when Sal's magic released him and sent a scowl at The Keeper. "Of course a demonstration for his Majesty." He simpered.

Salazar stopped writing quill in the air. Red eyes glanced at him. "Don't ever do that again."

Harry grinned. "Alright pay attention if I must be a show pony." He took a breath, closing his eyes. "Expecto Patronum." A familiar rush roared through him, down his arm and out of his wand. His Patronus -a stag- shot out of it. The spirit animal landed on the floor, eerie parodies of hoof steps following the action. So real. So detailed. The Patronus looked around seeing no Dementors. Finally, it zeroed in on The Keeper. Approaching him. Salazar twisted in his seat, parchment and quills forgotten. Long fingered hands reached out and passed through the spirit. Harry jumped when he felt phantom hands against his face. He didn't know you could do that.

"It's beautiful," Salazar commented. In another moment the stag left. "Good. Very good." Salazar complimented Harry. He stood in that lazy quick way of his and strode nearer to Harry. He stopped abruptly when he was still a few feet away. "Let us see how your shields are."

"My sh-" Without much thought on his part Harry ducked to the floor. An unknown spell sizzled the air overhead. Holy Merlin in Avalon he really tried to hit him!

"Not bad reflexes."

"Gee thanks," Harry muttered.

"Now use a shielding spell. Try Protego." The Keeper commanded. Harry stood, eyes on Salazar warily. He wasn't even using a wand! It wasn't fair. And wasn't Harry supposed to be the one in charge here?

"What is the wand move-"

"Doesn't matter." Salazar interrupted. "Focus on what you need to happen. Your magic obeys you. Feel it, form it, create what you desire."

With that, Salazar shot another spell at him. Harry closed his mouth with a click and raised his wand. What made a good shield? Panicking Harry flicked his wand. "Protego." To his surprise the rudimentary outline of a door with a slotted window formed in front of him. Salazar's spell met the construct and fizzled out of existence.

"Good. Very good. Let's not discuss how unhealthy it is that the very barrier which locked you away is what you think of when you think of safety, shall we?" The Keeper said lightly.

Harry stared at the replica of his cupboard door. "I just...I.."

"It kept you in but it also kept them out." The Keeper said. It wasn't a question.

Harry nodded. "How did you know?" The Keeper was silent long enough Harry thought he wouldn't answer him.

Then, quietly, it came. "I think we have both had enough of being locked away." Salazar clapped his hands, all shining eyes and bright smiles once more. "Now. Where did you learn the charm?"

"My third-year defense instructor," Harry replied, his own eyes still locked on The Keeper. There was a small space of time there he'd seen the other without a mask. And damn if he hadn't looked just as broken as Harry felt. It was an image he didn't think he'd forget anytime soon.

Salazar had already summoned his paperwork to him, leaning against a shelf and using the top as a table. "You had a different one in third year?"

"We have a different one every year."

The quill quit scritching. The Keeper glanced at him. "Why?"

"I can't speak for the years before I attended but the first defense instructor I had...I may have turned to ash after he attempted to strangle me. The second is a permanent resident of St Mungos." Harry listed. He was unable to stop a particularly vicious grin at the thought of Lockhart. "The third left after everyone found out he was a werewolf. This year we've got a retired auror. He's...solid I think. Not mentally but he knows what he's talking about. The werewolf is my favourite. He taught me the Patronus charm."

Salazar started writing again. "You did not mind his lack of humanity?"

"He was more human than most." Harry defended. Lupin had been brilliant. "Just because it says normal or human on the tin doesn't make it so. My relatives seem perfectly normal and they..." His voice caught in his throat. He had not meant to bring them up. To say that. Why did he keep talking about things he didn't want anyone to know about? What was it about Salazar that made him do this?

The Keeper's gaze lifted from the parchment once more. "They should have loved you when they could have." It was both sweet and ominous.

Harry shoved aside a sudden influx of memories from a time when he had tried to earn their love. Tried being as much like them as he could. When he'd been eager to do as they said in order to prove himself. When he wanted their loved and acceptance more than anything. Salazar should keep his sticky fingers out of Harry's memories! It was no one's business and certainly none of his. How dare he?

"Stop that," Harry commanded. The memories stopped bombarding him. "It doesn't matter anymore." The ache was back. Damn Salazar to Heel. Harry hadn't had the ache in years now. He didn't need to be accepted by them. Loved by them. He didn't need anyone. Not anymore. Even his friends preferred each other to him. Anger surged in from the corners he'd pushed them only a little while ago. He hated this. He usually had better control of his emotions than this.

"But it does."

Harry's attention snapped back into place. The Keeper stood before him far closer than he was before, parchment and quill once again left behind.

"What?" Harry questioned.

"You are going to be great, little snake." The Keeper repeated. He reached out a hand as if to touch him, stopping only inches from Harry's face. "How anyone can look at you, feel your magic, and not see it astounds me. One day your family -everyone- will look back and remember these moments. These years. The way they treated you. They're going to remember and they are going to wish they had done right by you." Red eyes bore into him and it was very hard not to be pulled in by them. Someone as strong and as brilliant as Salazar saying those things about him. It made you feel special.

And that was dangerous.

"For as long as man has been a member of the universe there have been people like that." Salazar continued as if the pause never happened. "Twisting the world around to suit them. Deciding who is right or wrong today. Which group or individual is revered or infamous or evil. As if they have a right to." Salazar stepped closer, still refraining from touching him. "History Harry, history may be written by the winner but the winner isn't always the last soldier standing when the dust settles. Sometimes he's waiting on the sidelines with bullets of his own, waiting to kill off the survivors so he can tell his own version of events." The Keeper's mouth came down to his ear. "Your ministry is wandering about with a swelled head now that they've got no one against them. But they are not going to forget that it is because of you. They want you to mess up. To shoot you down. They're just waiting for a reason."

"That's cheerful." Harry snarked. He tried to remain calm on the outside. He wasn't sure he succeeded. The Keeper was close enough Harry wouldn't be surprised if he heard his heart hammering against his ribs.

"It's the truth." The Keeper corrected. "They see you as a potential threat. What we need is for them to acknowledge you as one now." Such faith in Harry's ability to do so. It was ridiculous. The man was manipulating him. He knew it. He knew and it was still hard to fight against it. After all, he was saying all of the right things. Not even in a condescending or humouring sort of way. Salazar said it as if he believed it and it only happened to be what Harry longed to hear. that it only happened to echo the thoughts Harry held within himself.

"How...how can I do this." Harry breathed. "How can we work together when we don't trust one another?"

Salazar pulled back so their eyes met. "Think of it as a beneficial relationship. We're not conventional friends and we don't have to be. Think of me as your confidant. A mentor and an obedient servant. You hold my power, Harry." He straightened to his full height. Harry tried to take a step back to realize to his horror he'd been backed into a corner with noticing. When one earth had they moved? He didn't remember moving. "You can give it." Power siphoned out of him. "Or you can take it away." The Keeper gave it all back. As before it surged through him, filling him, electrifying him. Harry rocked a bit. Light headed.

"The choices are in your hands, little snake." Salazar murmured. "What would you have me do?"

Harry shut his eyes tight. "Can you leave me alone. Just for a moment. I can't think like this.'

"No."

His eyes snapped open. "No? I order you to leave-"

"No." It was firmer this time. Harder. The Keeper's arms found places at either side of Harry, locking him in. "You will never be alone again."

A hand pulled him along. "Time for your lessons."

"Lessons?" Harry tried to focus back on the present. Never alone. What did that mean? Was he stuck like this forever? Would Salazar remain with him even if he were freed? No of course not, why should he. He glared at the piece of him that found the news comforting. It wasn't anything to be happy or hopeful about. The Keeper wouldn't mean it in the way Harry's more naive self wished for him to. This wasn't a wizard he could depend on outside of their agreement and Harry couldn't afford to forget that. Ever.

"Yes. You need to survive the tournament. You want more control over your life. You want to know who you can trust. You do not want to go back to the muggles. As your obedient servant, I shall provide you with everything you need to know to do these things. Starting with this." He twirled around looking over a shelf. "Have a seat." The Keeper said absently. A chair materialized beneath him. Harry's knees buckled and he sat, bewildered. Salazar spun back around. A chalkboard formed in the air behind him. As he spoke two pieces of chalk wrote down was he was saying.

"There was a man. Epictetus. You've heard of him? No? He said we have two ears and one mouth so we can listen twice as much as we speak." The Keeper broke off and snapped his fingers. A small table with parchment and a quill appeared before Harry. Reeling and off balance, Harry gave a mental shrug and began taking notes. "You will have noticed we have two eyes as well." The Keeper continued. "Observation is the action or process of observing something or someone in order to gain information."

Salazar walked from his little lecture area and began placing round white stones on the floor in a semi-circle to Harry's left.

"Your mind is your greatest asset. You don't need to be the strongest or the eldest or the quickest if you know yourself the best. Practicing little things like releasing your wand from its halter, ducking, dodging, turning yourself to the side to make yourself a smaller target...your body remembers it after a time. Soon you will not have to think about it in order for it to happen. Like breathing. They call this muscle memory. You see, it does not much matter how stronger magically the man in front of you is if he had to stop and think about what he is going to do next. We will train your body into perfecting and remembering simple things so you can let yourself go on autopilot. It will do the things that need to be done while you are thinking of your next move. You will analyze your opponent and when they make a mistake -and they will- you will be ready. When you get good enough one mistake is all you will need. Victory will be yours. Not because you were faster or stronger or knew more spells, but because you know your own strengths and weakness well enough and you paid attention."

The Keeper surveyed the stones he'd placed on the ground. With a wave of his hand -and the feeling of air being released from somewhere in Harry's middle- the stones began to shift and morph into familiar faces. "Just as you must know yourself you must equally know your audience."

Rather good mockeries of people Harry knew stood before them. Malfoy. Snape. Vernon. Hermione. Ron. And to his surprise, Cho Chang. "You must know yourself as you are. Flaws and vices included. Knowing yourself is your greatest weapon and defense. It will tell you what others are trying to get you to do and you will be able to choose how you respond. I have chosen those who make you uncomfortable, those around whom you lower your guard, those who are best at pushing your buttons and getting a reaction out of you." He pointed to them as he said their categories.

"You will need to figure out why you respond as you do to the individuals in question. We will eventually move on to people you do not know. Practicing with those you already know something about will be a good place to start for now I think."

They were the strangest lessons Harry had ever experienced. Surprisingly informative as well. Think he'd never thought about or cared about before started to seem quite important.

"Pay attention. Don't walk into a room without knowing who is in there and how you are going to leave if you need to." The Keeper gave Harry a smirk at this. Harry's cheeks burned. Yes well, the last time he hadn't done that he'd ended up magically bonded to someone. Lesson learned. "We will hone your observation skills through little things at first. For now, every time you enter a room you will write down at least one thing you notice." Salazar gave him a small black journal. "Whenever someone enters or leaves the room, write down something about them you notice. Their height, the way they walk, what house they are in, how many books they have with them. Find something. Hair colour even. And when people speak to you write down something about them you notice. When you see groups of people interacting find something. Write it down."

As The Keeper spoke the golems -as Harry learned they were called- would reform into the correct action, giving Harry a creepy sort of visual aid. "Are they friends? Do they share a common interest? Why are they there and what will happen if you join them and enter the room they are in? As always look for other exits. How large is the room? Where are the authority figures located?" He leaned against the wall, watching Harry and the golems. "Hiding places? Who is paying attention to you? What sort of image are you presenting? It will take time however soon it will all come to you naturally."

Harry raised a hand then mentally scowled at himself. "What does this have to do with the tournament? I thought that was our first priority."

"And it is. We have no idea what you will be facing in the three coming rounds. What you will have to do. Rather than spend all our time trying to learn as many spells as possible, I believe we should take what you are already good at and perfect it, choose a small list of types of spells to delve into and focus the rest of our attention on you getting to know yourself. If you have tools you know how to use well and a quick creative mind you can get yourself out of nearly any situation. The point of the tasks is to complete them -of course- and to do it in such a way that gets you the most regard. Complete it perfect. Make it look easy. As if you're bored. As if it were nothing, even if you may be shaken on the inside. This will affect the score they give you far more than halfway completing a hard spell or transfiguration which is somewhat impressive but takes away from your time or causes you to finish the task imperfectly. Who will be your audience?"

"I...er...the world?"

The Keeper raised one brow. "Which opinions will matter?"

"The crowd."

"Really?"

Harry thought about it. "The judges?"

"Yes. It is them you must impress. They are the ones handing out the scores no matter how the crowd may cheer."

Harry frowned. "I feel like we keep sliding through different topics."

"As long as you take the information in," Salazar said airily, waving a hand. "However if you think you don't need these lesson perhaps it is time for a practical." With snaps Harry was coming to hate Salazar's magic wrapped around him, moving him to his feet. The golems were gone and everything else in a twenty-five feet radius. Harry's heart stopped altogether when he recognized the dueling pose The Keeper assumed at the farther end of their improvised dueling ring. He expected Harry to fight him? Numbly he went through the motions of bowing.

That was a mistake.

Salazar was moving the instant they were both turned around. Running diagonally to Harry's left, feet weaving in and out quicker than was human. Harry shot off "petrificus totalus" the first thing to come to mind. The Keeper's body swerved around the spell -hardly having to move out of its way at all- and kept coming for him, firing off an unknown spell of his own. Mind drawing a blank Harry threw up a shield to give him time to think. His broom closet door materialized in front of him. It held against the spell just as it had before. Harry grinned then cursed when he realized Salazar was even closer to him now. He flicked his wand and released the shield, stumbling backward to get out of the way.

This was anther mistake.

Three more spells came for him. Harry threw the shield back up. Why couldn't he think of anything useful to do? He was getting slaughtered by a man who hadn't had a proper duel in a thousand years! Harry's eyes snapped back to the wizard still come for him. Focus Potter! Harry tried to move experimentally and found the shield stayed right where it was. Curious Harry quit concentrating on it and shouted out the trip jinx. Salazar jumped over it easily. That didn't matter because now Harry knew his shield would stay up until he brought it down. Harry moved closer to his shield and used it as cover. He shot two spells of his own. A stinging hex followed by the tickling charm, whispering the later. They looked similar enough. To his delight The Keeper assumed them to be the same, raising a small shield to block them. It did not, however, stop the other wizards progress.

A curse hit Harry's shield and to his horror, a freaking crack appeared in it. Another hit the right side. Another crack. The Keeper was there suddenly right in front of him. The taller boy twisted in the air bringing his feet up and against the shield. It shattered. Harry didn't have to time to do anything other than gape before his back was on the ground. The Keeper straddled him, magical ropes curling around his body and preventing his escape just as his senses came back to him and he thought to struggle.

"Expelliarmus." Salazar murmured. Harry's wand snapped from his hand to The Keeper's only to be pointed at his own throat. It was utterly humiliating. "Do you yield?" Salazar questioned. It was for formalities sake Harry suspected because not yielding would be stupid.

"Yes." Harry spat. Salazar stood banishing the roped and offering his hand. Harry took it with ill grace and allowed the other wizard to haul him to his feet. His wand was returned immediately.

"What have you learned?" Salazar prompted.

"That I suck," Harry said spitefully.

The Keeper's lips twitched. He opened his mouth to say something no doubt snarky then seemed to think better of it. "Your shield is strong but not impenetrable. You show promise. Truly." He insisted when Harry's face shot downward, eyes firmly on his feet. Embarrassed. "I have much to teach you and you have much to learn. It is important for you to remember that you are capable of everything I show you. If I didn't think highly of you I would not have allowed you to gain mastery over me." Salazar said.

"Thanks?" Harry held up his wand and scowled at it. "Traitor," He accused softly. Harry looked up then and studied The Keeper. "How do you do that? Move that way? Like you don't have any bones in your body and you already know every move I will make? And sometimes you know things I haven't told you, even without going through my memories."

Salazar tilted his head, a small teacup appearing in his hand. He took a sip. "Observation." As if it were obvious. "Everything you do, the tone of your voice and the words you choose. The body language that goes with them and whether or not you hold eye contact. All of it means something. All of it tells me something about who you are and what you want. It is why the other students treat you as they do."

"They fear me." Harry pointed out. "Not always but if I catch them off guard the first thing they do is become suspicious...fearful."

"They should." The Keeper said.

"I don't want anyone to fear-"

"Yes. Yes, you do." Salazar spoke so slow and so sweet. "You want them to respect you. To see your potential. It's written all over you." He placed a long-fingered hand over Harry's heart. The very hands shooting out curses without a wand just moments ago. Harry felt his heart rate jump immediately, his breathing slow. Ragged. Those hands were thin and flawless and deadly. "I can feel it burning inside of you. You thirst for validation the way a man in the desert thirsts for water and shade. You need it. They ought to fear you. The rage you hold inside of you, the resentment. That combined with the power you have and the power you will have...one day your hold on it will break." Salazar leaned a bit closer, peering into Harry's eyes. "I see you, Harry Potter. Do not lie to me."

Being the well-adjusted teenager he was, Harry replied to that ominous declaration with snark. "That's deep for a man drinking out of a floral teacup."

Red eyes flashed. "Thank you."

He would never allow himself to trust Salazar. Harry decided it right then. Because he was in way over his head.

He'd learn what he could from the other wizard. Though a part of him rebelled at the thought of using another person. No matter how dark and dangerous. Harry would learn everything he could, get the man to help him through the tournament and then he would find a way to get rid of this damned connection they had going on. The necklace wouldn't come off. It was the first thing Harry tried when the haze left his mind. It was okay. He had plenty of time to figure out how this connection worked and how to use it to his advantage. Then he would severe it and seal The Keeper within the archives in such a way no one else would ever find him. Making mistakes is a part of life. It was how you learned, Harry knew. But sometimes you made mistakes you couldn't fix.

Big ones.


	3. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We are free to choose. We are even free to choose the wrong thing."

Things never go wrong at the moment you expect them to.

When you're completely relaxed, oblivious to any potential dangers; that's when bad things happen.

Robes long since abandoned Harry Potter stood in the middle of the ring, chest heaving in the midst of another mock battle. Battle being the operative word. Salazar took his lessons...seriously. There was no half hour discussion of what he should practice. It was constant movement from beginning to end with the older boy throwing out questions as they dueled. Harry was forced to evaluate the moves he was making and prepare himself to justify his thinking. When he was wrong it was up to him to think up a possible correction and then implement it. Harry had never been taught in such a fashion. Far more used to the single requirement of following along with the book and not messing up too badly.

If he messed up here he bled for it.

During their time together Harry discovered quickly he enjoyed experimenting with his spellwork. Doing things one might not normally consider doing. It was a wild and unstable sort of freedom being down there with Salazar. He could ask him any question and attempt any experiment without fear of judgment. If anything The Keeper appreciated Harry's honest curiosity, often searching tomes and scrolls and things for Harry he thought would help. He was patient. An annoyingly good teacher actually. Harry would like the boy to be bad at something just once.

With The Keeper's encouragement he improved upon his initial shield charm, now able to produce a smaller shield which moved along with him just in front of him, covering vital organs. He'd fashioned it to be flexible as well in hopes it would make it less likely to splinter. It worked more or less if allowed himself to make tacticle retreats. His inner Gryffindor was not fond of those. Salazar was pleased with this development and they spent a subsequent four hours discovering the variety of ways Harry could utilize such a shield. Keeping it up without the need to maintain his focus on it and retaining the ability to utilize other spells without weakening them, or the shield, was the very first order of business. If Harry thought quidditch practice in the rain was taxing he now knew better.

Sweat stuck to his hot skin in irritating globs. is sleeves were rolled up. No idea where his tie had gone. It was useless anyway.

Too restrictive.

In the name of science -or some other similarly completely bullshit excuse- The Keeper had him try his new ideas again and again until he'd thought up at least ten different ways of using them other than their original purpose. Supposedly to help his creativity. What magical dueling had to do with the wicked daggers in the wizard's hands Harry did not know. What he did know was he really, really didn't want to cut by one.

Salazar twirled landing one blow after the other against Harry's shield, shoving him backward. Harry skittered away in response, keeping his footwork at the front of his mind. He had long since learned stumbling or -God forbid- falling was almost a death sentence while battling Salazar. Daggers swiped at the space Harry had just vacated, slicing through the air with a sharp metallic chime. The sound sent unnerving tingles along Harry's skin. Giving him what was surely an unhealthy rush at having only barely escaped.

The Keeper turned bringing down a dagger in a wide arc. Harry's mind froze. Damn...damn... The other wizard's body rotated midair, bringing up one leg in a vicious kick at Harry's shield. In a last ditch effort Harry let his body falter with the movement, angling his shield. Salazar's foot kept sliding to the wizard's pleased surprise. While The Keeper's body kept its forward momentum Harry allowed himself to fall to his knees, arching his back nearly to the ground. Tensing his muscles He sprang up once more, facing the opposite direction. Harry immediately jumped back several feet. Any sense of honourably waiting for his opponent to regain himself and continue the fight evenly was beaten out of him several hours ago.

Life is neither fair nor merciful. So why should you be?

Harry rammed his shield against the incoming dagger. It was not dislodged as he'd hoped. Salazar's grip on it unwavering. Changing tactics Harry aimed to alter the angle of his shield as The Keeper's weapons met it, forcing them to slide away from his body. Unfortunately, Salazar took it as a challenge. The wizard's body spun and unwrapped its self as if it were made of the same red silk that adorned him, flowing like water. Slice after slice came for him. Harry was undeniably grateful for the lessons in muscle memory as he was not able to consciously keep up with the blows instead handing his response over to his body and allowing it to response automatically. His body angled itself to make a smaller target, side stepping more and more often rather than chancing the blows. They were too quick and too sharp to risk any that might not be blocked.

What made this markedly different from his duels back in second year was that Salazar was never not honestly trying to kill him. He toyed with Harry. Not letting forget for even a moment that he could end his life at any moment. Harry knew objectively that such a move would be detrimental to The Keeper's current goals of getting out and about. However the wizards ever changing moods didn't reassure him that Salazar wouldn't do precisely whatever he felt like doing at the time regardless of the consequences. That sort of knowledge kept one on their toes. He lost count of how many times the other wizard picked up off the floor and put him back together.

A sweeping strike came in from the side aiming around the shield. Harry's breath stuck in his throat. Son of a...

Without thinking it through Harry jumped high, setting his feet against his shield which he left in stasis and leaped right over Salazar's head. The man's body following through with his stroke and unable to twist to meet him. That didn't stop the man from kicked out backward with his leg. Harry fell straight on his bum. It would have been embarrassing if not for the happy accident of Salazar's kick being aimed much higher than he now found himself. Thanking his ridiculous luck and whatever deity saw fit to grace him with it Harry fumbled to his feet. The Keeper was turning. Harry swing his wand arm in a circle and flung it at Salazar. Red light streaked toward The Keeper forcing him to own. Harry let out a choked gasp. He hadn't thought it would work! Green eyes locked onto the shield hovering in the air behind the other wizard. With some nudging, he summoned it to him.

One of the benefits of his shield reacting to kinetic force rather than just magical was the ability to hit back against a weapon or opponent.

Or do this.

The shield yanked forward like a bobber on a line, shooting toward Harry uncaring of any obstacle in its way. In this case, Salazar. The shield struck his back, toppling The Keeper forward. Harry grinned, biting back a laugh. It was rare he got one over on the man. He held up his arm and secured his shield back in place. Just in time it seemed. Red hex, blue jinx holy crap was sort of curse was that? Salazar disappeared with a pop. Harry stared. What the Hell? Without another soft pop the wizard appeared to his left. Harry blocked a swipe, dodged a spell and returned it with one of his own. The wizard disappeared and reapeaerd again. And again. Harry's eyes flickered around of their own accord, taking in things faster than their master could process them. He barely scrambled out of the way as Salazar shot three more hexes his way followed by two swipes of his daggers. Kick. POP! Swipe. POP! Curse. POP! Swipe.

Stay in one spot you bastard.

Harry stumbled backward swearing. His clothes were soaked in a plethora of bodily fluids. Sweat. Blood. A few tears. He could hardly hold himself upright and there was The Keeper, performing acrobatics without so much as a cut on him. He was toying with Harry and it wasn't fair! He didn't even have the decency to get some dust on his silk after he face-planted. Harry blinked. Where did he...?

A shudder ran up his spine. Warmth. Two arms wound around him from behind pulling him back against The Keeper's chest, hard. The dagger's blade just at the outside of his peripheral vision. A long fingered hand moved to hover just over his heart. But Salazar wasn't ending the duel. The arms around him squeezed tighter. He could feel the other wizard's breaths against the side of his face. The feel of The Keeper's silky magic swam over and around him. He started panicking when the familiar haze flooded his mind. "S-sal." The icy blue light of a curse filled the hand just inches from his heart. Oh shit. Harry swallowed. "Salazar. Please..."

"Do you-"

"I bloody yield!" The younger wizard attempted to push Salazar out of his personal space. The Keeper ignored him. He rested his chin atop Harry's head.

"You are improving," Salazar said.

Harry flicked his wand around the wizard's daggers, cleaning up his clothes the best he could. He winced as his wounds were cleaned up. "It doesn't much feel like it." He admitted. His heart was attempting to return to its normal rate. That wasn't funny. He'd thought he was really going to die.

"You may be surprised." The Keeper gave a shrug harry could feel rather than see. Suddenly he was released. The Keeper turned and skipped over to the side of their ring, tossing his daggers on a shelf. It must feel nice to be able to conjure new ones whenever they broke. Harry figured he was a cleaned as he was going to get. He stomped over to the table and sat across from Salazar taking the biscuits offered him with a sneer.

"Sore loser." Salazar taunted.

"One day," Harry vowed. "One day I'm going to beat you senseless."

The Keepers lips twisted into a long crescent smile. "Promise?"

Harry scowled, swallowed his biscuits then swiped the rest from the platter in the center of the table. He wouldn't answer him. He knew now it was pointless to try to match wits against the man. Or boy. Or spirit. Whatever the Hell Salazar was. The wizard had a way of twisting words no matter how you meant them. "...not a compliment," Harry grumbled. Their time together within the chamber had oddly gone far too quickly and far too slowly. He would take a break from a lesson or lecture to find only an hour had passed when he was certain it had been much longer. At other times he would find an entire night gone.

"We can return to the chamber to practice whenever you like little snake. You need not look so unhappy." Salazar soothed.

Harry pointedly looked away. There was no reason to miss this. Some small part of him -or maybe a little bigger than he wanted to admit- loathed sharing any part of this with the outside world. The Keeper himself included. It was still his secret as far as Harry was concerned. The weekend had not tempered his anger. He had it more under control. There were bigger things to worry about. The tournament at the very top of his list. Survival outweighed idiotic teenage drama. Salazar's words, not Harry's. The wizard was right. So what if Ron got jealous? Harry didn't have the time to worry about it. Ron would either get over it or he would and Harry could figure out what to do about it when either of the two finally happened. Until then he should set his focus on practicing his observation skills during the day, working hard in class and training in the spaces between for the tournament. The Slytherin in him delighted in this change of attitude. His inner Gryffindor appeased by the duels he frequently engaged in with The Keeper. Well, as long as my inner personalities are pleased...

"Pop quiz." Salazar nearly sang. He leaped to his feet and danced over a few feet. With a clap of his hands, his trusty chalkboard hovered behind him in the air. Harry's lips twitched at the sight. Damned idiot. Why couldn't he just stick to one personality? Evil or sweet. Serious or CrayCray. Harry of course ignored his own personality dilemmas.

"Our actions and arguments are focused towards what?"

Harry twisted in his seat to face Salazar. "Our audience."

"Yes. And the number one thing we need to know about how audience is...?" The chalk behind the wizard merrily wrote down his words.

Harry smiled to himself. A fill in the blank lecture. Both the best and the worst sort to get. "Their...motivations."

Salazar nodded. "And this is because?"

"Knowing their motivations tells you why they act the way they do, what is driving their decisions and what you need to do to get them to believe choosing to go along with what you want will ultimately lead to the outcome that they desire. Whether it be social standing, their pride, monetary gain. Anything really. All that matters is that they believe it will benefit this goal."

"A specific audience is called what?"

Harry thought a second. "Target of Influence."

"Which is?" Salazar pressed.

"A...person or persons or entity whom we are trying to persuade to choose to do something differently they have been or might otherwise without our influence."

"Correct." The board flipped over. "And your own resources and power is referred to as?"

"My Circle of Influence." Harry nodded as he answered. He remembered that one.

The Keeper gave a ghost of a smirk. "And the only thing that matters about your circle is what?"

"How well you know how to wield it. Whatever it is. If it is only one thing you have then you learn everything you can about that one thing. The amount of tools at your command matters little in comparison to how well you can use them and your ability to find new ways to implement them." Harry's cheeks did not flush this time. Salazar brought this particular lesson up at least twice a day. "If you did not win the fight there are two reasons why. You either did not use your tools to the best of your ability or the other wizard did so better than you. It is never the tools' fault."

"Tell me the differences between a demand, a threat and an offer..."

Later Harry sat at the table, contemplating the events of the weekend. Could he really expose the other students to Salazar? And could he trust him to keep to his end of the bargain? He couldn't say yes. He couldn't. He knew better than that. But he had promised and even if that meant little to The Keeper, it meant something to Harry. He was effectively putting the lives a thousand teenagers in his own hands, with the belief he could somehow control Salazar. He had the ability to limit the wizard's access to his power. As his lessons said; it wasn't the amount of tools, it was your ability to use them. He had little doubt The Keeper could find a way around his supposed limitations if he needed or wanted to.

It did help that Harry currently didn't like the majority of the students in the school. Somewhat disappointed in himself he shoved aside the part of him telling him to find Dumbledore, tell him what happened and demand he find a way out of it for Harry. The fact was, Harry was learning a lot through The Keeper. He wanted to learn more. Maybe he could convince him it was a better idea to stay in the chamber for now? Harry could always come down and visit him at the end of each day. It could also serve to remind The Keeper who was the one in charge here. Harry didn't have to bring him out or give him all of his power to do what he liked. Harry could keep most of it for himself and force the other wizard to do humiliating menial things like bringing him his shoes or snacks like a house elf. A servant.

Damn he felt guilty thinking like that.

"Are you ready?"

Harry looked up. Salazar stood there, an almost wary expression to his face.

Harry grimaced. "Yes well, about that."

"Because I will admit I am rather excited." Salazar grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him from his seat and dragging him across the floor. Harry let him out of the sheer selfish desire not to have to break the news just yet. God, he was a wimp. "I've read all of these books. So many times. And reading about things and learning new things is something I do enjoy." The Keeper trailed off. He stared at the rows and rows and of books and scrolls and other writing implements. "I haven't been able to use my full power to do magic in so long." The hand slipped from his wrist. Salazar stood there vacantly for several moments.

"And people." Harry jumped when he finally spoke again. "I haven't seen other people in centuries. Will they all dress as you do? Is the politics the same I wonder? I know this part of why they sealed me here...where I can not see anything in the world. They loved to tell me I desired too much. I was greedy. But...that is what desire is." He turned back to face Harry. "A fierce need for what we don't already have. What, perhaps, we can not have. The need for more of what is already available -or more of it- now that is greed. I'm not greedy. I simply have...desires."

Then the melancholy was gone as if it had never been. "I think it will do be good to have a bit of a holiday. Are you ready?"

Something in there resonated with Harry in ways he wishes it wouldn't. Longing to see the world outside to meet people. To be anywhere but the Dursleys. His closet beneath the stairs. The room with many locks and a single cat flap. Bars on the window. Pull yourself together Potter.

"Oh...er I...Uh." Harry cleared his throat, backing up. "You see the things is..." His back hit the wall. Two scrolls fell off of whatever shelf he'd ran into. The Keeper continued to follow after him. He stopped just shy of making physical contact with Harry. Red eyes beneath dark fringe so like Harry's gazed down on him. The younger wizard was pretty sure he really was going to die now. "I decided something."

"Did you?" Voice calm. Too calm. "Do tell."

"I..."

Arms came out to rest on either side of him as they had once before. Salazar leaned down a bit to meet his eyes directly. "Go on then. You can tell me anything little snake. That's what I'm designed for remember? The perfect companion. Your obedient servant." Harry's breath left him a rush as The Keeper leaned even closer, red orbs wide and annoyingly vulnerable. "I have been obedient. Haven't I master?"

His heart clenched. "Don't. Don't do that."

Salazar blinked slowly. "Do not do what? You must only tell me and I shall, of course, obey your wishes-"

"Stop that." Harry snapped. He reached up and put his hands against the other wizards chest to push him back. "Don't do that. Acting like you're..." His voice left him for a moment.

The Keeper frowned, head tilted to the side. "Like I am what?"

"...my slave," Harry whispered. "It's not right."

Salazar took a step back. "The hardest choices in life little snake, are not between what is right and what is wrong but between what is right and what is best. I did not choose to be bound to this place. You, however, you chose to accept ownership of myself through our agreement. I am what I have been fashioned to be. So I will say again, what would you have me do? For your wishes and desires are my commands whether or not you want them to be."

It was annoyingly lukewarm down there. The air was stale. Everything quiet in the smothering way the place had about it. He still didn't know if it were a spell or not. Harry did think it might be, perhaps one to help keep Salazar under control. To keep him calm. He glanced around the place. It looked much as it did when he first came there two nights prior. Some of it altered to make way for their learning places and dueling ring. Tables and chairs for biscuits and tea. The other consumables he'd seen. Harry tried to imagine what it might be like to live here against your will and spend several centuries unable to die to get away from it. Stuck inside until someone wanted to bring you out. To use, not to speak with you or know you or to care much what you thought of it. He thought of living in his cupboard with his relatives for eternity.

It was horrible...

All of his life, the world had made his choices for him. Now the choice was his and once it was made he would have no right to blame anyone else for the consequences. Loss of that privilege, the ability to blame others, unexpectedly stung. He could blame Ron and Hermione for giving him the opportunity to consider coming down here in the first place -if he squinted- He could not blame them for this. But then, Harry thought to himself, if the world wanted him to think only of what was expected of him and never once consider doing anything else they'd gone about it poorly. Doing what everyone else wanted hadn't turned out so well for Harry up to this point. He then thought, while twisting the ends of his sleeves, that if he was to be unhappy as a result of these choices he may as well make them himself.

With a strangled growl and the acknowledgment he was most likely making a very big mistake indeed, Harry took the startled wizard by the hand and began stomping away. "How do we get out of here anyway?"

If The Keeper wondered why he was silent for long he did not comment on it. Rather, Salazar waved a hand and the Archives rearranged themselves to their original orientation. It made a piece of Harry unsettled to see it. They did not go back through the staircase of doom, to Harry's relief and curiosity, instead, Salazar leads them out of a small door along the far opposite wall. It opened into a small room with absolutely nothing in it. Harry followed The Keeper to a red door on the other side. Literally, the only thing present apart from themselves. Its door opened to reveal the seventh floor of the castle. How they went from that far beneath the earth to highest part of the castle one could get outside of the towers was not a question Harry could answer. Or fathom really.

"This room is one of my more clever obstacles I think," Salazar said. He turned back to the door they came from. It left behind no clue of its previous existence. "The only way to access the chamber is to already know that it is behind the door. Otherwise, it will form itself to their wishes, leaving them rather distracted."

"Huh." Was all Harry could think of to say.

They turned together and began down the hall. Footsteps unheard. Harry knew now to spell his shoes silent and never had asked if Salazar was truly that light of step or spelled them himself. The trek to the dorms was longer and shorter than he remembered. He half expected to be accosted at any time by either his friends or Dumbledore. They reached Gryffindor tower without any excitement, though. Murmuring the password and watching the portrait swing open Harry couldn't help stare at the entity standing beside him.

A grin curling along those wicked lips, red eyes glinting, fastened on Harry himself.

This. This was a bad idea.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if this is a sort of story you lot might be interested in. -PSEU


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